


Comparing Notes II

by Ocianne



Series: Comparing Notes [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ocianne/pseuds/Ocianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first international Kid heist in nine years is taking place in Denver... but things never go the way you plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ezra

**Author's Note:**

> ATF Mag 7 was first imagined by MOG; peppymint woke the blasted bunnies out of dormancy and they wouldn't go AWAY... Thanks to Ellen for betaing and encouragement. This story was first posted to fanfiction.net in 2009.

_This is the way the world ends_  
_This is the way the world ends_  
_This is the way the world ends_  
_Not with a bang but a whimper._  
~T.S. Eliot, The Hollow Men

* * *

"...You poor, brave, young fool."

No one replied; Ezra Standish lived alone and rarely entertained people at his apartment, not even his ATF teammates. He was grateful for that fact, tonight. It meant he didn't have to explain why he was sitting on his couch with a glass of malt whiskey at midnight, talking at the TV while watching the news channel's after-the-fact coverage of the first international Kaitou Kid heist in almost nine years.

_"Police have still declined to comment, but camera crews managed to catch what may turn out to be the final flight of world-renowned Phantom thief 1412, colloquially known as the Kaitou Kid."_

The television screen showed a flash of white on black, Kid's trademark glider so easily trackable against the night sky as it soared away from one of Denver's many skyscrapers, just low enough to be out of range of the police helicopters' downdrafts. The sound didn't show up in the recording, not in the background noise present on the ground between coordinating police and the mob of American and international Kid fanatics. But the _image_...

Oh, the image.

The soaring triangle of white cloth suddenly convulsed, and then began to tilt dangerously, diving down towards the crowd below. The camera zoomed in, trying to bring the thief beneath the glider into focus as he stabilized, swooping just above the heads of the crowd—and a spreading patch of red on white flashed for the television viewer just as a chorus of voices cried out that Kid had been shot. The gathering devolved into a panicked mob; all policemen present were forced to focus on keeping the mass of people under control, any thought of chasing phantoms forgotten.

_"While Phantom Thief 1412 did not land or crash near the scene of the crime, police are continuing to search for his whereabouts. The observed severity of his injury suggests that without professional medical help, 1412 may not make it through the night—and professional help is something that this particular thief cannot afford to seek. Tonight's heist may become the first time 1412 has failed to return an object of value since his mysterious reappearance almost a year ago after an eight year hiatus."_

"It's Kid, you simpletons," he muttered under his breath.

The television switched to interviews of several individuals who had been a part of the crowd and seen the spreading blood on the suit, as well as the wealthy Denver socialite whose penthouse Kid had invaded with the same ease that Ezra dealt cards from the bottom of a deck.

"...Damn sharks with microphones." Ezra turned the TV to mute and raised his glass. "You had better survive this, Kid-kun. Whatever drives you, your quest isn't over yet, and I abhor losing friends I only met yesterday."

He took a drink.

The thief had to have been in Denver only for the heist. The bar that he'd met 'Ken Himitsu' at was one frequented by law enforcement, making it an excellent source of information—and poker winnings, which was why Ezra had been there rather than ATF Team Seven's typical haven, the Saloon. Apparently a poker game made an irresistible target for a player of his skills; Ezra had won only slightly more often than he lost, and the overall profit from the table ended split slightly in the thief's favor.

They'd eventually become the sole players left at the table, surrounded only by the empty bottles their previous opponents had left behind. Somehow the conversation had turned to work, including a few stories about Vin and Chris (names removed to protect the guilty), and then their exchange about disguises... Ezra really had no idea why Kid had talked so much about the elements of his work that he had shared, even though Ezra had quite obviously not believed that the unassuming Asian-American-looking man could have been the notorious phantom thief that he'd first heard of the week before, when the Kid note had made the front page.

Not believed, that is, until the man had vanished from the bar in a puff of smoke, leaving a second note with a recognizable-but-original doodle behind.

_"Vincerò! Vince~rò!"_

Ezra nearly dropped his drink as Pavarotti's triumphant voice pierced the silence of the apartment. While his cell phone was excellent at making Buck twitch whenever it went off in the bullpen, and piercing the blanket of sleep to wake him for work emergencies, he was not in the mood to appreciate good opera tonight.

Setting the glass down, he picked up his phone from the end table and nearly growled at the number that neither his phone nor his memory recognized. He almost let it ring through, but decided that a wrong number would be a welcome, if temporary, distraction from his current ruminations.

Keying the button to answer the call, he snapped into the phone, "It's the middle of the night; this had better be important."

For a long moment there was silence. Then an unexpectedly familiar voice, strained but with a hint of amusement, murmured, "Your balcony must give you a wonderful view, Agent-san."

Ezra froze, heart in his throat, before he practically teleported across his living room to the glass slider, whipping the dark curtain aside with one hand.

A spot of white broke the darkness, Kid leaning against the third-floor balcony's retaining wall with his cape bunched against the red-black patch covering his left side. The thief attempted to grin at him from beneath the shadows of his hat brim, but the manic expression was pale and edged with pain in comparison to the one he'd given Ezra at the bar.

"...My God." Ezra ended the call and pocketed his phone, disarming the door's alarm—the level of his security combined with the thief's injury explained why Kid hadn't greeted him from inside his apartment—and stepped outside into the chill night air.

"My apologies... for interrupting your evening, Agent-san." Japanese. The concentration necessary for English was apparently buried beneath the pain.

"You're a welcome distraction from your news coverage, Kid-kun." Ezra closed the gap between them with slow, smooth movements. "How badly are you injured?"

Beyond the obvious of 'Badly enough to risk being arrested in order to get help.'

Kid straightened, taking his weight away from the wall, breathing slowly and shallowly as Ezra stopped in front him. "Wasn't fast enough... this time. ...Hit my ribs... no exit. Think... they're cracked."

"...Hell." Ezra had experienced similar on a bust gone bad, once upon a time; the fact that Kid had managed to concentrate well enough to reach Ezra's apartment without crashing was highly impressive. Stubborn will or not, however, Kid looked almost as pale as his suit. Ezra carefully moved to take on his weight, noting that the thief stiffened at the contact, but didn't pull away. "Come inside. We'll get you patched up, and then we can compare notes on what's important enough to risk dying for."

Another grin, wavering. "Have to... take a rain check... on..."

Shock, adrenaline, and pain proved too much. Kid's dead weight slumped sideways, nearly slipping out of Ezra's grip. Luckily, Kid was smaller than even JD, Team Seven's scrawny young computer geek, and Ezra quickly readjusted by picking the slightly-built thief up off the balcony altogether.

He carefully carried Kid into the spacious, tile-floored master bathroom, the only luxury of his entire apartment, and sighed. "...It's midnight. Nathan is going to kill me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ezra's phone ring is the end of Nessum Dorma, which rather fittingly translates into "None shall sleep tonight".


	2. Nathan

* * *

_Wavering between the profit and the loss_  
 _In this brief transit where the dreams cross_  
 _The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying_  
~TS Eliot, Ash Wednesday

* * *

Sound where there should have been silence—Nathan Jackson awoke to the phone on his bedside table ringing at an hour when all sane men with work the next morning were asleep. With a groan, he put the piece of infernal technology to his ear.

"Jacks'n."

"Please accept my most sincere apologies for waking you."

Faint Southern accent and the vocabulary of a politician—Nathan knew only one man like that, and he would never impose on others outside of a dire emergency. Sleep-fogged thoughts rode a wave of adrenaline into full alertness and he threw the bed covers back, sitting up.

"Ezra? What happened?"

"I... have need of a favor. Your presence at my apartment post-haste, and your silence." Beneath the smoothness of the words, Nathan caught the edge in his voice that was as close as the undercover agent ever got to sounding worried.

"Are you in trouble _again_?" Nathan fumbled into some clothes and found his medical bag, perpetually kept in readiness for emergencies—as the tactical medic of the team, chances were good that being woken up in the middle of the night meant he was going to need it.

"Not personally, per se. It's somewhat complicated, but urgent."

Slipping into his shoes and coat, Nathan sighed. "Just... is whatever this is gonna make Chris shoot me when he finds out?"

Or more accurately, make Nathan the target of their team leader's glacial temper, which was all the more unpleasant for the fact that Nathan rarely attracted ire on his own. Ezra was a master of this particular art, and seemed to be at least partially inoculated to the infamous Larabee Glare.

"No." The lack of hesitation didn't mean much—Ezra could con a man out of his clothes and make him think he'd come out ahead in the deal—but neither would Ezra lie unless he believed that whatever he needed Nathan for was worth risking Chris's personal and administrative wrath.

And Ezra was good at calculating odds.

"I am quite confident that Mr. Larabee will understand the extenuating circumstances of why I require your skill with forceps."

"Damn it, Ezra..." Sometimes he hated being right. Car keys located, Nathan hurried outside. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Thank you. You'll be expected. I'm afraid I must go for now." Ezra hung up.

Nathan sighed again and started up his car.

The drive into the heart of Denver was not the longest twenty minutes of Nathan's life. That prize had been won by the bust where Chris had hesitated a precious fraction of a second, unexpectedly confronted by a face from his past having turned to the wrong side of the law, and the formidable man had been shot not far from his heart. For the twenty minutes after that moment, Nathan had received the unenviable job of keeping the older man alive through the interminable wait for the ambulance, the too-long ride to the hospital, and the admittance into surgery. This late-night drive couldn't match the adrenaline-fueled time dilation of two years previous, but it made a very good effort at it.

Finally, he arrived at Ezra's high-rise building and hurried through the lobby. The nighttime security guard had long since memorized the faces of the six men who occasionally visited Ezra's apartment at odd hours, and simply waved at Nathan as he headed for the stairwell. Nathan waved back, distractedly, and moved on to take the stairs three at a time to Ezra's floor.

Ezra's apartment was the closest to the stairwell—they all knew the value of a quick escape route. Nathan knocked on the door and then tried the handle, unsurprised to find it unlocked after Ezra's comment that he would be expected.

"Ezra?" He called, closing the door behind him.

"Master bathroom, Nathan!" came the reply, sounding more strained than the phone conversation.

Nathan made a beeline through the apartment to the bathroom's open doorway, and the world froze for a moment to let him stop dead in shock at the sight beyond.

An Asian teenager lay sprawled on the tile floor, clad in a white suit and monocle that perfectly matched JD's enthusiastic description from the week before of the Japanese-native phantom thief, Kid. Ezra was kneeling beside the lax body, hands stained dark red as he used wadded white silk—the cape, Nathan realized vaguely—to staunch an oozing flow of blood from somewhere between the ribs and hip of the teen's right side. A top hat rested on the floor beside the boy's head, which was sloppily pillowed on one of Ezra's fancy monogrammed towels, and the monocle did nothing to hide the fact that the internationally-wanted criminal of twenty-two years' fame couldn't possibly be that old.

Time restarted.

Nathan cursed and hurried forward. "Let me take a look at it, Ez... What the hell happened _?_ "

Ezra obligingly moved back to give Nathan room to work. "We met yesterday, over poker, though I didn't realize who he was until his exit. He must have researched me further... He dropped onto my balcony just before I called you, injured from a sniper's shot at the heist, but passed out before he could say anything further." The Southerner shook his head. "He must be in Denver alone... and he's so damn _young_ , Nathan."

Everyone on the team had a soft spot for kids, but Ezra and Chris were particularly affected by the prospect of one in trouble. _Snipers_ and a serious injury was definitely trouble.

"Can't be a day over twenty, if that," Nathan agreed, setting up his kit and carefully peeling back the layers of suit to expose torn flesh. The teenager's breath caught at the action, but he seemed no more lucid than being able to vaguely wince away from Nathan's hands. "Damn, look at some of this..."

Removing the thief's shirt and coat entirely had revealed old scars patterned in the pale skin of his torso and upper arms. Nathan's practiced eye counted at least two grooves on the arms from healed bullet furrows and an indent over the heart before returning his attention to the current mess.

"The scars of self-cared for wounds," Ezra confirmed quietly, readjusting the makeshift pillow beneath the thief's head.

"Mmm. Get towels, I'm gonna have to dig the bullet out."

He hoped the boy was completely out of it; this was going to hurt.

Ezra set a small stack of towels on the floor beside them. "Ruin as many as necessary to get the job done."

_...You ARE worried if you aren't grumbling over the towels even a little, just for show._

Nathan nodded, and got to work.

"You know," he said some time later, bullet finally on the floor as he carefully stitched the cleaned wound shut, "this probably counts as aiding and abetting..."

Still kneeling on the tile floor, watching, Ezra glanced over and flashed a brief smile. "Only if we're caught and he's arrested."

"We gonna tell Chris?" He would likely find out somehow, sooner or later, and being told would at least partially lessen the chances of the team leader finally developing an ulcer.

"Mmm... Preferably after having had the chance to speak with our young friend."

Nathan shrugged, finishing the stitches. "Let's get him into bed and I'll start an IV. He's lost a fair amount of blood, but this is all I can do."

Moving him on top of Ezra's duvet was fairly simple, between the two of them. Finding a pair of sweats in Ezra's closet that wouldn't aggravate the injury took a few minutes, but luckily the Southerner had only a few inches on the thief and the pants weren't impossibly loose on the wiry teenager's frame. Nathan set up the saline solution while Ezra retrieved an extra blanket, loosely arranging it around the boy to leave only the IV uncovered.

Task accomplished, Nathan shook his head. "Only you could have a crazy jewel thief collapse on your balcony in the middle of the night."

Ezra's face dimpled with a wry grin. "It's a talent." He glanced back down at his house guest. "What kind of recovery period can he expect? Unless his civilian identity is entirely alone, an extended absence may need to be covered for in Japan before bullets are turned in that direction."

Nathan took them outside of the room to continue the conversation, not wanting to disturb his patient's rest. "I think two of his ribs are pretty badly cracked. To do much more than lie still and breathe shallow is gonna take a few weeks, and for the kind of acrobatics JD talked about, three or four months."

"Damn." Ezra drifted across the living room, pulling the disturbed curtains back across the glass to block out the night and resetting his security systems. "Someone with his level of professional skill is unlikely to have his own fingerprints connected to his identity, if they've ever been taken at all. We'll have to see if, by some miracle, he talks to us."

"What makes you think he won't, after he wakes up?"

Ezra chuckled mirthlessly, turning back to sit on his couch. "Put yourself in his rather nice white loafers, Nathan."

_...Right. Injured, vulnerable, and in the power of folks who only haven't arrested him_ _ **yet**_. _Yeah, volunteering information about himself or anyone close to him is pretty much out._

"Oh, this is going to be fun." Nathan sighed and dropped into one of the stuffed armchairs tiredly.

"At least he's not dead yet." Ezra's face hardened. "And isn't it interesting, how snipers fall into our jurisdiction..."

Nathan 'hmm'd thoughtfully. Chris and the rest of the team would be ticked enough about snipers trying to kill a teenager that the whole how and why of Kid would be put on the backburner until the bigger problem of murderous bastards could be dealt with. "If you're goin' hunting, I can think of six guys who'll back you up, whether or not you can swing doing it on the record."

Ezra turned off the muted TV. "I hope to make the investigation on the record, without official record of any connection to Kid. The sniper fire at the Kid heist is likely international news by now; it seems reason enough to begin a case without the Judge learning of my temporary co-inhabitant."

Nathan yawned. "I'll call in sick tomorrow, and stay here. You get to go into work and explain this mess to Chris."

"Such a noble offer on your part," Ezra responded dryly, but he didn't contradict the idea. "If response is favorable, I do believe I will ask Josiah to come 'round for a visit after work, to see if his particular talents can do any further good in breaching our young friend's veritable stonewall."

"Good idea." Team Seven's psychological profiler and resident amateur philosopher tended to get through people's walls in ways that not even Ezra's smooth demeanor could manage, and the sharp mind hidden beneath graying hair produced insights on a level that few people ever hoped to match.

"In the meantime, as my bed is unfortunately occupied..." Ezra grinned. "Can I interest you in a game of poker?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the Mag7 fans: Yes, there's a passing reference to the episode Obsession in this chapter. Kudos (no, not Kudou Shin'ichi and family, sorry) if you caught it.


	3. Josiah

_What is hell? Hell is oneself._  
 _Hell is alone, the other figures in it_  
 _Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from_  
 _And nothing to escape to. One is always alone._  
~TS Eliot, The Cocktail Party

* * *

Every day was an adventure, Josiah Sanchez mused thoughtfully.

Ezra showed up late to work (as usual). Nathan called in and taken a sick day (not usual, but he _had_ sounded tired on the phone). And Ezra, after arriving at the office, betook himself to Chris's office without being summoned first. ( _Highly_ unusual, given that the habitual debate over whether write-offs such as a five hundred dollar suit were legitimate business expenses had already been settled for their recently closed case.)

Behind the closed door and drawn blinds, there had been no sign of Chris's response until a muted roar of "WHAT?" nearly shook the windows of the bullpen. Another period of silence followed, before Ezra walked out of the office with perfect serenity in his expression. Chris, on the other hand, loomed in his doorway looking three shades away from apoplectic.

He pinned Josiah with a glare. "You're going with Ezra this afternoon to meet a material witness for our next case."

"Woah there, stud," Buck interrupted, thumbing his mustache. "Not that I'm complaining, but I thought the Judge ordered us to use this week to catch up on paperwork. He's giving us another case already?"

Orin Travis, retired Federal Judge turned Assistant Director at the Denver ATF field office and Team Seven's supervisor, had long ago discovered that paperwork was the bane of his underling's existence, and to be done properly generally required giving the men several days of dedicated time between active cases.

Chris's glare deepened. "He will be."

"Ahh." Buck grinned in perfect understanding at his friend of over fifteen years.

"What's the case, Chris?" JD cut in from the desk facing Buck's, nearly bouncing in his seat from curiosity.

"We're finding the snipers from last night's Kid heist."

"Really?" The dark-haired techie's young face positively lit up. " _Cool!_ "

Josiah opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted, this time by a quiet Texas drawl. "Judge Travis ain't gonna give us a new assignment till last week's bust is wrapped up, Chris." Vin Tanner, sharpshooter and second in command, leaned against the doorway to the break room with a mug of coffee in his hand.

"Junior, that had better not be your brand of sludge in the coffeepot!" Buck half-growled, distracted.

The Texan grinned, blue eyes twinkling mischievously over the rim as he took a drink. "Pot was empty, Bucklin."

"Your definition of empty is 'less than half-full', Mr. Tanner," Ezra remarked dryly. "But if we could return to the topic at hand?"

Chris nodded shortly. "With the international aspect, our team's regional jurisdiction makes us best suited to take this case. I'm going to meet with the Travis in four hours to make it official, and I had better have all of your reports to turn into him by then. JD, quit playing World of Warcraft and finish the last page of your damn surveillance write-up, then start looking for signs of anyone systematically checking the morgues. Josiah, you and Ezra are heading out once you're both done. The rest of you, get to work."

Josiah joined in the chorus of affirmative and turned back to his computer screen. His curiosity could wait a few short hours.

* * *

Finishing the last of his work with plenty of time to spare, Josiah pulled up his web browser to do some preliminary research on Kid. A traffic accident had made him late to work the day Kid's note had arrived down at the police station, and he'd walked into the office at the tail end of JD's impromptu information session in Team Seven's bullpen. Now, the more information he collated, the more found himself shaking his head.

Only the most driven of men would willingly dance with death. And only someone who didn't feel alive outside of the spotlight would turn a desperate treasure hunt into a public show, offering himself as the goal for two separate foxhunts: hounded by the police on one hand, and much more shadowy pursuit on the other.

Not all heists attracted sniper fire, of course—a good third seemed to be Kid simply answering challenges or foiling impostors from appropriating his name for far worse crimes, and thankfully those kind were the only ones where Josiah found record of the grade-schooler who seemed to chase Kid on occasion. A fair number of others had no outside interferences, but now, in last six months, heists were increasingly attracting gunfire, including one or two whose attendance included the Kid's other famous public hound, Saguru Hakuba.

"Mr. Sanchez, if you're ready..."

Josiah looked up from perusing the teenage detective's profile at Ezra's voice, realizing he had been distracted from his original quarry. Ezra stood placidly beside his desk while Vin slipped inside Chris's office to turn in the pair's joint write-up of the undercover aspect of the last case, ten minutes before the given deadline. JD had finished long before and begun his new task, brow furrowed, while Buck was still feverishly typing and muttering under his breath, glancing at the clock almost as much as his monitor.

"Of course, Ezra." Josiah closed the browser, turning off the computer with a smile. "Do you have an address, or am I following you?"

"Following, if you would. I only know the directions, not the address."

"Of course." They headed out.

About forty minutes later, as they parked outside Ezra's apartment complex, Josiah realized that the Southerner had been lying through his teeth.

"Ezra, what on earth?" he demanded, stepping out and shutting the car door behind him.

"Not here, if you would, Mr. Sanchez. Any questions you have may be answered in the comfort of home."

Suspicions growing, given the morning's events at the office, Josiah followed Ezra inside and up the stairs to the apartment, where Ezra unlocked and opened the door. Immediately, the sound of Nathan's voice—not home sick after all, apparently—reached his ears from further inside the apartment, cussing some unknown party out. Josiah's eyebrows rose. He'd heard that lecture of Nathan's before, aimed at Vin and Ezra, and occasionally JD.

"Ah." Ezra smiled faintly. "It seems Mr. Jackson has become acquainted with our esteemed guest's stubbornness and professional paranoia."

"It sounds rather like one of our brethren attempted to check themselves out against medical advice." And there was only one witness from last night who would be injured. Ezra never ceased to surprise him.

"Yes, he rather fits in," Ezra agreed, lips quirked. Reaching the master bedroom, he pushed open the door. "How far did he get, Nathan?"

"Too damn far for his own damn good," Nathan shot back, glaring at the Asian teenager propped up against the pillows of Ezra's bed, whose bandages were too white to be anything but new. "Cracked ribs can become _broken_  ribs, and those puncture LUNGS!"

The boy's gaze flicked past Ezra to size Josiah up in one of the quickest threat assessments he'd seen in a while, supporting further his conclusion about the teenager's identity. Josiah seemed to fall under "not-immediate-threat", because the boy stayed tense and a bit stiff, but didn't move other than to give the three of them a polite, weakly masking smile: all teeth, zero sincerity.

"I've imposed too much on your hospitality already," he murmured in lightly accented English, speech slightly broken by short pauses due to the need to breathe shallowly.

"You're hardly an imposition, as a material witness," Ezra replied smoothly.

"Nani?" Surprise flashed across Kid's face for a moment, breaking through his politely attentive mask. Josiah didn't even have to try consulting his rusty memories of Mandarin and rudimentary Japanese to realize that the interrogative meant 'What?'

"ATF," Ezra reminded him. "You've already met Nathan, and this is Josiah. Snipers fall under our jurisdiction. Thieves do not."

Kid's eyes roved between them, looking for the catch. "…Governments usually object to agents being accessories."

"Wouldn't be the first time we've left stuff out of a report," Nathan replied.

As the thief's wariness began giving way to vague bewilderment, Josiah added, speaking for the first time, "It's a question of priorities. A thief who harms no one and returns what he steals is far less important for us to catch than murderous snipers."

Kid's gaze sharpened, catching Josiah with an askance look before including Ezra in its breadth. "How many people are you planning to tell about me, Agent-san?"

"No more than six total, if that. Currently the only other person who knows of you is our esteemed leader, who is ready to chew iron and spit nails in your defense."

Ezra did have a gift for metaphor.

Kid blinked. "…So, your team." And if he knew the number of people on their team, he had likely recognized Josiah and Nathan even before Ezra introduced them. "…Okay." The thief still looked wary, but exhaustion weighed so heavily on him that he had to be picking his battles carefully.

Ezra smiled. "Please don't try leaving again. I doubt Nathan's blood pressure can take it."

The thief's lip's quirked. "Lost more blood than I thought. Not standing on my own again until I'm sure I won't black out."

"He got to the closet before he collapsed against the wall and ripped some stitches," Nathan informed Ezra, then added dryly, "Not that you know anything about idiotic stunts like that."

With a genteel cough, Ezra demurred, "I plead the fifth on the grounds of self-incrimination. Nor was I the one who realigned a dislocated shoulder on my own rather than travel to the emergency room."

That had been Vin, who hated hospitals almost as much as Ezra did.

"No, brother, you're the one who broke out of the hospital with a concussion and bruised ribs," Josiah answered, pleased to see signs of real amusement creeping into Kid's expression at the banter and some relaxation of the tense frame.

"There were extenuating circumstances connected to that chain of events—"

"No, there weren't," Nathan interrupted. "Leastaways nothing justifiable for the trouble you got yourself into. But our friend here needs to _rest_ , and we can talk more after he wakes up and has a chance to eat something."

The tone brooked no argument, and none present were willing to risk a reappearance of the Wrath of Nathan. Kid let his eyes drift closed, settling down into the pillows, and Josiah and Ezra joined the medic out in the kitchen to talk quietly.

* * *

The next few hours passed quickly between Josiah giving the other two his impressions of Kid, learning from Ezra how and why the thief had tracked him down in the first place, and discussing the best ways to coax information to protect his civilian identity from the obviously reticent teenager.

At Josiah's suggestion, when Kid finally woke up after a few hours he and Nathan carefully moved the thief from the bedroom to the living room. A comfortably padded recliner offered all of the support of a bed, and the living room was much less confining that the bedroom with the added bonus that it held seating for four easily.

Even with Josiah supporting most of his weight during the relocation, Kid was pale once he resettled, and Nathan insisted that he eat before anything else. The thief had almost made it through a mug of broth when Ezra's phone rang.

Pulling it out, he checked the caller ID, then set it on the coffee table in the middle of their loose circle on speakerphone to allow for a conference call.

"What can we do for you, Mr. Larabee? You're on speaker."

"JD found something," came Chris's disembodied reply. "Wanted to talk to Josiah about it."

Josiah exchanged glances with Ezra and Nathan. "I'm here, Chris, go ahead."

"Hey, Josiah!" JD's bright greeting brimmed with excitement. "I was looking through the morgue viewing lists and stuff and looking for common links when I found someone _really_ interesting checking out the dead bodies—at first I thought it could have been a connection if it was just an alias but it was too obvious if they were trying to be covert so I checked the surveillance tapes and it's really him!"

The young tech paused for a response, and Josiah chuckled. "Really who, JD?"

"…Didn't I say? Eheh. Sorry. I'm talking about Saguru Hakuba—the teenage detective that chases Kid most of the time." Out of the corner of his eye, Josiah saw Kid tense as JD continued, oblivious. "He didn't make it to Denver for the heist, obviously, but he's here now, and checking bodies." JD paused briefly. "He, um… looks like hell."

…If possible, Kid seemed to go even further still. Josiah would have bet money that the thief had not expected to hear that. Deliberately not looking at Kid, he replied, "So, Chris, you want a professional opinion on whether or not to consult with him on this case?"

"Yeah. What's your take, Josiah?"

"Mmm…" Josiah thought back on the profile he'd perused, and the new information JD had just shared. "I think someone obsessive enough to cross continents on the trail of a thief is likely to have found information that my be useful to our case. He's a licensed PI in the US, isn't he? I can approach him with an offer to consult with our team; better than letting him investigate alone and risk getting killed."

"Fine. Feel him out, find out how much and what you think we can tell him."

Josiah nodded, though Chris couldn't see him. "I'll plan bring him back to the office if I think it's a good idea, and he agrees." He smiled. "Whether or not Ez invites him over for dinner will be up to our witness."

Kid didn't move, but Josiah would have been willing to bet that the teenager was calculating odds and outcomes. From the expression that briefly flashed across his face, he hadn't expected there to be a choice, if Saguru joined him. Josiah mentally sighed. The teenager seemed even more skittish about trust than Ezra had been way back when he'd first transferred from Atlanta.

"Witness?" Over the phone, JD inhaled sharply and then breathed, "No _way_ …"

"…I need not remind you to practice the utmost discretion, JD," Ezra commanded.

"What? No! I'd never tell!" JD sounded appalled by the thought. "But can I come over? Please? I'll bring a photograph for Josiah, and be able to tell you whether Saguru's still at the morgue on Beech or moved on to the one on 34th by then."

Josiah didn't have the heart to mention that he'd already seen what Saguru looked like; it would have been like kicking an overeager puppy.

Chris' dry voice came over the speaker: "Do you promise not to pounce the guy?"

"Chriiiiis… I can be professional."

"You wear Geek Culture T-shirts on casual Friday."

"No pouncing, Scout's honor," JD promised with a rueful chuckle. "But I reserve the right to ask for an autograph before this case is over."

Kid started to snicker before breaking off with a pained grunt, which the speakerphone was apparently sensitive enough to catch because a moment later JD exclaimed, mortified, "Oh God, he _heard_  that?"

The thief apparently decided there was no point in hiding, because he calmly answered, "You wouldn't be the first law enforcement officer to ask for my autograph, Mr… Dunne?"

"Call me JD. I'm not old enough to be a Mr."

"JD, then."

"I guess it makes sense that you'd be popular in Japanese law enforcement, especially with the guys that chase you. Well, except for Inspector Nakamori," JD added with an audible grin.

"Fascinating as this discussion is," Chris broke in, "you can finish it in person. Ezra, I want you working your contacts who might have seen something before someone else finds them first." A scowl crept into his voice as he continued, "I'm going to see the judge about what you suggested this morning, so don't expect me to be available for a few hours."

"We hear and obey, sir."

Kid snickered again, lightly.

Chris hung up.

"Charming fellow," Kid murmured into the silence, earning a few chuckles.

"You should see him on Tuesdays."

* * *

Ezra said his farewells and headed out. The interim until JD arrived passed quickly, listening to Kid—painfully and with many pauses to breathe—describe what he could about his pursuers and then attempting to coax and cajole even a few hints regarding his civilian identity out of hiding. It was a dance, finding out what Kid would risk when he obviously thought his civilian absence was covered for, at least or the time being. Josiah dearly hoped the boy was right.

Soon enough, a knock on Ezra's heralded JD's arrival. When Josiah opened the door the young agent stood slightly flushed and breathless from running up Ezra's stairs three or four at a time, and gave Josiah a slightly manic, utterly delighted grin.

"Hi, Josiah! Hi, Nathan!" he added brightly as he entered, before he caught sight of Kid's unmasked face, and several degrees of enthusiasm sobered. JD was perhaps the brightest of all of them—quick enough to recognize what Kid's youth and an eight-year hiatus implied, particularly with snipers added to the mix.

"Hi. It's nice to meet you, Kid." JD smiled again, friendly but not overwhelmingly eager, and held up his laptop case. "I've got one better than a photo—I brought the footage I grabbed. I can set it on Ez's TV, if you guys want to see it."

Kid shrugged, deceptively nonchalant. "I suppose."

"Go ahead, JD," Josiah added, and the young agent hooked his laptop up to Ezra's TV without comment. When the video clip started playing, Josiah could see why. The blonde teenager was a currently a far cry from his impeccable appearance and comportment Josiah had read about in the profile.

"I trust this is sufficient." Saguru's clipped British accent came through Ezra's sound system only slightly distorted, the words themselves a thinly veiled snarl. On the screen, he set a sizable fold of bills out, which the attendant snatched up and began counting. Saguru watched impassively.

Nathan whistled softly. "That's a lot of cash."

"Five hundred, I'm pretty sure," JD responded from his spot on the floor, sneaking a surreptitious glance at Kid. "This was at the second morgue. He's still got the one on Ash and 34th to go."

"A man doesn't spend that much money on idle curiosity," Josiah commented blandly.

Kid said nothing, staring at the screen like he'd never seen the detective before.

"Dang, Josiah," JD asked, "do you think he'll even listen to you?"

"Well… I'd say that depends on whether he thinks our assistance will further his investigation, or if our presence will hinder his intentions."

"He's a detective. He doesn't do revenge," Kid murmured, but he didn't sound entirely confident in the assertion.

"Detectives are only human, son," Josiah gently reminded him.

And Saguru seemed to be taking this personally.

Kid said nothing, eyes still on the screen.

"I'll be going, then." Josiah stood up, stretching a little. He wasn't _old_ , but his bones weren't what they used to be. "You said 34th and Ash, JD?"

"Yeah, that's the only one he hasn't visited yet," JD replied, glancing at the computer and hitting mute as the video clip looped again. He left the visual up, though, which Josiah put down to having spent time learning the fine art of manipulation from Ezra. Josiah privately approved.

JD continued, "Um, good luck. Might be a good idea to offer to buy him an early dinner—I don't think he's had time to eat since he got off the plane this morning."

"Ouch," Nathan broke in. "On top of everything else, he's got to be ready to bite someone's head off."

Josiah smiled wryly. "I'll be careful."

* * *

Josiah made it to the morgue without incident, then simply sat and waited in the car for Saguru to come out. It would be better all around if he didn't actively catch the young man looking through the bodies.

When the young blond finally exited, Nathan's prediction turned out to be accurate—Saguru, in Josiah's opinion, looked like a miniature Chris Larabee in Ezra's wardrobe, complete with thinly restrained, vitriolic glare.

Josiah pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and exited the car, badge in hand. "Saguru Hakuba?"

The detective turned slowly, balanced on the balls of his feet. Given the circumstances, it really wasn't a surprise that he'd be ready for an attack.

"You have the advantage of me, sir."

"Josiah Sanchez, ATF." He held out his badge without moving closer, waiting while Saguru scrutinized the authenticity with a mental fine-toothed comb. "I'm part of the task force that's tracking down the snipers from last night's Kid heist."

Saguru raised an eyebrow, otherwise expressionless. "And this brings you looking for me because?"

Josiah pocketed the badge. "You've chased Kid for the better part of a year, son. We were hoping you might have information we could use to find the murderous bastards. In exchange, my boss is willing to attach you to our team as a special consultant while we go after them."

"The hunting hound once more," Saguru muttered to himself, barely audible, then continued louder, "And what duties would "special consultant" convey?"

"Providing any and all information that would be relevant to the case, maybe some computer work with JD, our data specialist, and processing and synthesizing what info the boys in the field bring back." Josiah gave the boy a faint smile. "I was told you're excellent at data mining."

The detective considered the offer for a minute, weighing his options, then finally nodded. "All right. Where shall I report and when?"

Josiah grinned toothily. "Well, if you want to meet my boss tonight, we can wait at the Saloon - a bar and grill by the office - until Chris gets out of a meeting with our supervisor. Uncle Sam's tab."

Saguru's stomach growled loudly, and his mouth quirked just a hint upwards. "That would be acceptable, thank you."

_And the offer of food returns some humor and civility once more._

"All right, then," Josiah smiled. "Let's head out."

He got back in the car, followed by a still slightly wary detective. Saguru didn't say anything as they drove off, choosing instead to tiredly watch the road through the windshield, and keep half and eye on Josiah. The silence stretched until Josiah's phone rang, and he quickly fumbled in his earpiece.

"Sanchez."

"Hey, Josiah!" JD greeted brightly, sounding like he'd been given a new gadget. "Did you find him?"

"Yes, he's with me..."

"Then bring him to Ezra's until Chris finishes with the Judge. He wants to see him."

It took a split-second for Josiah to process the pronouns, before his face nearly split in a wide grin. "Of course, we'll be right over. Half an hour."

"Problem?" Saguru inquired, tone not particularly worried.

Josiah flipped a quick right turn, heading back to Ezra's apartment. "Some very welcome news. One of my teammates is hosting a material witness for this case. He'd like to see you."

_Which means he's chosen to trust someone of his own choice, rather than pure necessity. And you have hope of being more than a big bundle of snarl._

Of anything Saguru had expected to hear, however, this definitely wasn't it. From the corner of his eye as he maneuvered through traffic, Josiah could see that the young detective was dead white.

"You..."

"It's entirely off the record, of course," Josiah added, fighting to keep amusement out of his voice. "I imagine he'll be going home once he recovers. Our jurisdiction is snipers, son... not stage performers."

Saguru was silent for a long moment, a hand over his face, and then his shoulders began to SHAKE. "Who _truly_  wants to see me?" he asked between helpless chuckles. "...Because I can't imagine it's him. Not unless wherever you're taking us has several escape routes handy."

"There are several escape routes from Ezra's apartment, actually, but he's currently on bedrest." Josiah lifted his free hand and gently squeezed the young man's shoulder. "I believe he's been watching you spend a small fortune in an attempt to find him. You surprised him."

The laughter faded, slowly. "There's a switch."

Josiah chuckled and squeezed Saguru's shoulder again before letting go. "I can only imagine. I'm not very familiar with his career yet."

Saguru ran a hand through his hair, still somewhat pale. "It involves a great deal of confetti and rampant flouting of the laws of physics."

"Lord, he and Vin can never compare notes or we'll all be in trouble."

"You have a coworker who does the impossible?" The boy's tone was entirely matter-of-fact. Kid apparently really did do away with skepticism. Unless you counted the matter of trust.

Josiah, however, had been more worried by the mention of confetti. "Our sharpshooter has pulled off what most would consider impossible shots, but he also has a devastatingly wicked sense of humor and a prankster streak a mile wide. No one in the entire office has managed to prove that it's him, beyond the fact that he's never fallen victim to the truly outrageous setups."

"You're right, we have to keep them apart," Saguru agreed, some color returning to his face and voice, though it was hard to tell if the teenager was only humoring him about who they were headed to see. "Perhaps you could gift the man with fish-print shirts."

Josiah blinked. "He's ichthyophobic?"

"Well... I believe so. It's rather complex."

"Sounds about par for the course." Which piqued Josiah's curiosity something fierce, but given Saguru's posture, he decided to let the matter drop for the time being. "Since we're not likely to make it to the Saloon, just speak up if you see a place you'd like to drive thru. Ezra promised to shoot whoever used his kitchen when he wasn't present after Buck and JD ruined the oven and nearly set the kitchen on fire."

Saguru snorted. "If you know a place with a decent chicken sandwich, that will be fine."

Josiah grinned. "You're in luck. There's a Chick-Fil-A not for from Ezra's apartment."

"Perfect," Saguru replied, but his gaze had strayed out the window and his voice sounded somewhat distracted. Josiah was almost surprised that the detective hadn't foregone the delay of the meal altogether, before he remembered that he was still dealing with a teenage boy who likely consumed his own weight in groceries every few days, and hadn't eaten in close to eight hours.

The rest of the ride was quiet, and Josiah politely ignored Saguru while the teenager wolfed down two chicken sandwiches in record time. He was still munching on a third when they arrived at Ezra's apartment and finished it as they took the elevator up.

Josiah led the way to the door, knocked once, and opened it, walking through first.

"We're here!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to WolfDaughter, for jumpstarting my brain to finish the last scene of this Chapter That Would Not End. Also to Ellen, for much plotting helps and listening to me write in realtime.


	4. JD

_Hold tight, hold tight, we must insist that the world is what we have always taken it to be._  
~ TS Eliot, The Family Reunion

* * *

… _Wow. I haven't seen a mask slam up that fast and thoroughly since Ezra's mom surprised him at the Saloon last May._

Ezra loved his mother, JD knew. However, her disdain for Ezra's job and "persuasive" efforts to have him join her living abroad meant that her visits heralded his reversion into a man who revealed nothing to his audience—including his friends.

After JD had called Josiah, Kid spent the subsequent half-hour dozing fitfully while JD continued working and Nathan took advantage of JD's presence to run home for a shower and a change of clothes. As a result, it meant JD was the only person present to see how, in the time it took Josiah to open the door, Kid went from a sleeping, not-quite-relaxed-but-vulnerable teenager to being wholly the untouchable thief, face like a blank sheet of paper: pale, and revealing absolutely nothing.

At least, JD amended, nothing beyond what was already obvious from his stiff posture and the way his eyes were glued to the doorway.

Josiah stepped out of the way, giving Saguru and Kid a clear view of each other—Kid stiff and immobile, pain-edged uncertainty leaking past his carelessly confident smile, and Saguru looking even worse in person than he had on the camera footage, typical fastidious presentation lost beneath wrinkled clothes, mussed hair, and dark circles standing out against pale skin.

Expression flickered across Saguru's face too swiftly for JD to read, before he crossed the room with a slow, even tread, stopping when his shoes were flush with Kid's chair.

"You…" Saguru growled, glaring down at the thief, "are the most… _infuriating_ person I know."

Kid's false smile widened, and he answered in Japanese, "I do try. You look like hell."

"You're one to talk," Saguru retorted in the same language. "At least I have no bullet holes in my person."

JD had never been happier—barring when Chris had hired him and their first case had included the yakuza—that he'd been a massive geek and taken Japanese for his high school and college foreign language requirements, and maintained it afterward. He did feel a little bit guilty for eavesdropping on a confidential conversation, but only a little… especially since the pair of them sounded like Ezra and Vin, the last time Vin had been in the hospital.

"Occupational hazard."

JD winced internally at the flippant response. Going by the way Saguru's expression had tightened minutely, Kid wasn't doing himself any favors.

The detective braced his arms on either side of Kid's head and leaned in, looming impressively. After a long moment's silence, he spoke in low, emphatic Japanese, with none of the typical markers of polite speech. "You are not allowed to die on me, you bastard."

Kid froze, staring, all glib retorts silenced.

Off to the side, out of either teen's direct line of sight, JD saw Josiah's face split in a toothy grin of approval at the reaction. The older man didn't understand more than a few words of Japanese, but the gist of conversation carried through non-verbally well enough.

After the breathless pause, Kid finally offered, "I have no intention of doing so."

Saguru's fingers curled in the chair fabric, glare deepening. "If not for Standish-san, would I or would I not have found your corpse today?"

"…Touché," Kid murmured with a wry smile, and it wasn't entirely Kid any more as the exhausted teenager let his masks slip down a fraction and leaned back in the chair. "But some things are worth the risk, Hakuba-kun... 'Evil's triumph needs only good men to do nothing.'"

Some hidden tension in Saguru's posture relaxed infinitesimally at Kid's use of his name rather than his job description, and he let out a long, slow breath. "So long as what good men do is not ineffective. Was it what you were looking for?" Going by his tone, he didn't really expect an answer.

JD fought to keep his jaw from dropping. The guys on the forum would never believe it: They'd all been _right_ … Of course, he couldn't tell them anyway— _darn_ —so it became a moot point.

Kid cocked his head for a long moment, considering, before his shoulders shifted in a careful shrug. The movement was still enough for the muscles around his eyes and mouth to twitch in the faintest of winces. "I don't know. Full moon isn't until tonight."

This time, it was Saguru's turn to stare. "…Do you still have it?" he managed, re-collecting himself. "I'm sure I can afford you opportunity to check once it's dark, should you need one."

"It's either still in the pocket of my jacket, wherever that got put, or already back in the custody of the law." Kid paused for a moment to simply breathe, ribs rising and falling in quick, shallow rhythm. Then he continued in a scrupulously unconcerned tone, "If you plan to take a look, wear waterproof gloves at the very least."

Saguru gave him an appraising look, one eyebrow quirking upward. "…Are you certain you wouldn't rather do the honors? You've been looking a long time."

Kid blinked, as if he hadn't expected Saguru to make the offer, then a smile slowly crept onto his face—not the flashes of teeth he'd been giving Josiah and the rest of them all afternoon, but a small grin of genuine warmth. "Thanks."

Saguru returned the gesture with an exhausted half-smile. "With any luck, this will be the end of it."

"Don't say that. You'll jinx it. And if it's not, I'll need to keep looking."

"My apologies." Saguru hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face for a split second, before he offered, "Would you be willing to accept assistance to search through more legal means?"

Kid's grin widened. "If you're offering, I won't say no."

"Good. Though it _would_ be convenient if all that remained was hunting down your bloody snipers… who will no doubt assume that you're dead, provided we do nothing to contradict yesterday's conclusion."

"That's the plan," JD blurted eagerly in Japanese, unable to stay out of the conversation any longer. "Chris is getting permission to use a John Doe to confirm Kid's death, and having the case of finding the snipers assigned to our team."

Both teenagers had apparently been unaware that their audience could understand the conversation, because their heads whipped around to favor him with a matching pair of startled looks.

"…Bugger." Saguru slowly straightened back up to stand, eyes shuttered against revealing any emotion. JD half-wondered if the detective had picked up the habit from Kid, but Kid hid behind easy smiles, not the stereotypically British stiff upper lip.

JD nearly tripped over his tongue as he rushed to continue, "Sorry I didn't say anything, but I didn't want to interrupt. I won't spill anything you guys talk about unless it becomes important to our end of things, promise." He grinned, hoping to see them a little more at ease. "Theft is outside our jurisdiction, and I'm a closet Kid fan."

It seemed to work, because Saguru relaxed enough to favor JD with a faint smirk, expression softened from the smug confidence so often captured by a news camera's lens to mere amusement. "There goes my reputation."

"Hey, you only swore to catch him. You didn't say anything about not letting him go afterwards." It was a loophole Ezra would be proud of.

Saguru chuckled. "Yes, excellent point." Running a hand through his already disheveled hair, he switched back to English. "Well. Everything seems to be well in-hand here…"

JD darted a glance at Kid. The thief's sanguine exhaustion remained unchanged, even though to JD it sounded a heck of a lot like Saguru had other things to do now that he knew Kid was alive.

"Actually…" JD startled slightly at Josiah's unexpected interjection. "If you could stay, we would appreciate it. Someone needs to keep an eye on him, and the rest of us have timecards to fill, even if JD here is telecommuting for today."

"Mmm. Yes, I'm aware how much trouble he can get into unsupervised."

"Hey!" The protest was half-hearted at best, and Kid's lips still curved in a faint smile.

"The problem is," Saguru continued, "there is one thing that has to be taken care of back in Japan… Do you think I could have access to a scrambled line?"

JD's grin nearly split his face in half. "Probably, if you're doing what I think you're doing; we haven't gotten this idiot's identity yet to cover for his absence in Japan. Who do you need to call?"

He realized his phrasing a moment after he said it, and right on cue, Kid murmured, "Ghostbusters?"

"Bloody hell, who let you watch American cinema?" Saguru sputtered.

"The internet is a strange and scary place," came the grinning rejoinder, as Kid visibly suppressed a snigger.

"…Why was I concerned about you, again?"

"My sunny personality?"

JD snickered helplessly as Saguru shook his head with a sigh. "Clearly. I need to contact an acquaintance of mine, to get a message in private to certain people," he added to JD, then turned back to Kaito. "Inspector Nakamori needs to know that this is mere illusion, or there very well may be little left of him to return to."

Kid nodded, eyes suddenly old. "Do they know, or has mom been covering?"

_Holy… You've known each other outside of heists? No wonder…_

Saguru's lips thinned. "Your mother has been covering for you. I think Inspector Nakamori knows anyway, but he simply won't allow himself to acknowledge anything other than the lie." He paused. "And I really think you should allow me to alert Edogawa, or else he's likely to do something drastic and very _unpleasant_ when he receives confirmation of your demise."

"Little idiot," Kid muttered under his breath, not unfondly. Louder, he continued, "Okay. This incarnation of the game is done, anyway…"

If Kid weren't so exhausted, JD doubted he would have ever seen the pang of regret that flashed briefly through the thief's expression.

_So the suit really is more than just a disguise. A memento, maybe, of the first Kid from before he died…_

Saguru's face echoed none of Kid's regret, but a hand dropped briefly to squeeze Kid's shoulder in distinct counterpoint to Saguru's almost feral smile. It was the kind of smile Ezra had when he spotted a poker mark. "And the hunt begins."

JD grinned. "I like you. Here…" He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. "I keep it updated to stay as secure as modern tech can get."

"Thank you." He took the phone and turned it on, then eyed JD. "Do you mind if I take this somewhere a bit more private?"

JD nodded, and gestured accordingly as he offered, "The balcony is behind those curtains, or you can use Ezra's bedroom."

"…Balconies can be less private than one would think. Excuse me." Saguru inclined his head slightly, and headed for the bedroom.

_And if you decide to take a look around for Kid's jacket while you're in there, then officially, no one will be the wiser._

Kid apparently had the same idea, going by the calculating smile lurking in his eyes. JD had gotten good at recognizing that kind of smile out of self-defense, because it was the only thing that forewarned when one of Vin's more spectacular pranks might be lurking in wait in the bullpen. Once in a lifetime was _more_ than enough for honey in the hair or super-glued fingers the day reports were due. Thank God for two-thumbed typing.

"Well. That was educational." Josiah smiled at JD. "Enjoying yourself?"

"He certainly seems to be," Kid cut in with a hint of amusement. "Are you staying as well, Sanchez-san?"

"Sadly, no," Josiah rumbled. "I should be off to make sure that our esteemed leader hasn't stained the bureaucratic red tape even further red."

"Eheh. Good plan," JD affirmed as Kid broke off a mid-chuckle with a pained cringe. "I figure I can hold down the fort here, so when Nathan called earlier to check in I told him to take a nap."

"Good. Lord knows he probably needs it, after a night like that."

With comedian timing, Kid quipped, "I deny everything."

Josiah laughed. "I'm sure you do, son."

…For a split-second, Kid's face went horribly, utterly still, before a devil-may-care smile could reclaim its usual place. "It's a pity you can't stay, Sanchez-san. Four is best for a game of poker."

Josiah's brows furrowed slightly in kindly concern. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to bring up a painful association, Kid-kun. I'm also afraid I can't afford to lose a month's wages tonight."

Kid waved a negligent hand, as if denying that the reaction had ever happened. "Some other time."

"I think being a fly on the wall for a game between you, Saguru, Ezra and Vin would be far more interesting."

"And entertaining," JD chimed in. "In a partnered game, any of you guys could probably manage table talk with just your eyebrows."

"Eyebrows can be eloquent conversationalists," Kid began with a grin, before Saguru poked his head out of the bedroom.

"Ah, JD? A Buck Wilmington on your team says he's bringing dinner by once he's off the clock, since Mr. Standish's kitchen is apparently forbidden territory. Any requests?"

JD's stomach rumbled in response. Between work and more work, he hadn't eaten since breakfast, not counting chips and a soda from the office vending machine. "Um… My regular order from the Rubio's down the street sounds great. Thanks."

"I'll relay the message." Saguru ducked back into the bedroom.

"I get no food?" Kid called after him, volume dimmed by restricted airflow. It didn't seem to make much difference, because apparently Kid had sufficient skill in ventriloquism that he could pitch his voice across the room with little apparent effort.

"I'm ordering for you," came the immediate response, prompting Kid to regard the half-closed door with a deeply suspicious look until Josiah shifted his weight.

"I should be going." Josiah smiled at Kid. "It's been a pleasure meeting you. Take care until I see you next."

"… And you," Kid replied. JD had a feeling Kid was echoing both of Josiah's statements together.

After Josiah left, Kid settled back in his chair. He drummed his fingers together a few times, experimentally, as his eyes drifted between the various entrances and exits, and then down to Ezra's coffee table. A deck of cards sat innocuously in the center.

"Would Standish-san mind if I borrowed his cards?"

"Nah, it's fine." JD scooped the deck up and held it within arm's reach for Kid. "Knock yourself out."

Kid took a moment to process the idiom, then broke into a wry smile and accepted the cards. "Not literally, I hope. Twice in 24 hours is more than enough."

"Um, yeah." JD resettled on the couch with his laptop and dove back into lists of names and numbers, while also keeping half an ear on the murmur of Saguru's voice in the next room. He couldn't make out the words, but it couldn't hurt to monitor the tone just in case of… well, anything.

In his peripheral vision, Kid slowly worked through some rudimentary cards manipulations until he seemed to be warmed up, at which point the cards began shuffling faster. _Much_ faster.

_You're working outside the office, getting dinner for free, and watching a world-class magician perform card tricks for his own entertainment._

_Best. Day. Ever._


	5. Buck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first moved this from fanfiction.net to AO3, I ran out of steam after four chapters despite the story being complete. Now the last three are added and the story is properly complete here on AO3 as well. Thanks to Turret for commenting to bring it to my attention!

_Let these words answer_  
_For what is done, not to be done again_  
_May the judgment not be too heavy upon us_  
_~TS Eliot, Ash Wednesday_

* * *

Today had been a good day. He'd gotten the paperwork done on time (Chris had intelligently set the deadline half an hour before he'd planned to meet with the Judge, and Buck had slipped his report in just under the wire), and then tagged along to run interference. The Judge had a solid appreciation of sound logic, but he also preferred said logic to be couched in social niceties. Chris had long since lost the desire to employ anything of the sort, especially toward the gauntlet of underlings that stood between themselves and an unscheduled appointment with the Judge.

With twenty years experience translating Chris's good ideas to the rest of the world, Buck knew when he was needed—but also when to pick his battles, and he admitted to a little guilty pleasure at seeing Chris make bureaucrats nearly run away screaming.

The Judge had listened, too, and had agreed to do whatever leaning necessary to ensure that Team Seven got the lead jurisdiction for the investigation. Combining that success with the knowledge that Ezra's material witness had to be an alive-if-not-well thief—not even JD had mentioned that little tidbit, but Buck could read Chris well enough to know that nothing else attached to this case could have caused the morning's roar—and he was optimistic about the case already.

Feeling justifiably cheerful, Buck opened the door to Ezra's apartment, which revealed JD on the far side of the room by Ezra's glass slider with two teenagers—the blond was presumably the self-styled detective Buck had talked to an hour ago, because the brunet's bandaged torso outed him as Kid.

"Avon call— _Holy…"_

The bag of fast food hit the floor with a faint thud.

A white-hot flare of protective instinct for two kids who looked like crap still failed to entirely distract Buck from the sight of what the injured teen held up to the fading-sunset sky in one gloved hand: something the right size and shape to be the heist target, giving off a pale but unmistakably red glow that made all of Buck's hair stand on end.

At Buck's truncated epithet Kid startled, almost dropping the gem before he snatched his hand down to his chest and tried to whirl towards the front door all at once. The movement couldn't have been good for him, because he immediately began to crumple on his feet, teeth gritted against obvious pain. Luckily, Saguru had turned as well, and caught Kid by his uninjured side and shoulder, easing the way down with JD's additional assistance. They ended with Saguru against the glass door, half-behind and half-beside Kid as a sort of human backrest to keep him supported sitting up, and Kid trying to split his attention between simply breathing and staring at the jewel in his hand like he'd never seen it before.

"So," Saguru murmured, apparently ignoring Buck for the moment, "this is it?"

Kid simply nodded, expression vacillating between awe and revulsion.

"Such a little thing, to have so many lives stolen for it."

"Aa." Kid added a few breathy words in Japanese that sounded like an affirmative.

Buck finally recovered the presence of mind to pick up the food and step into the apartment, closing the door behind him, as Saguru answered. "If this is truly corundrum, I don't think a hammer has the force you're looking for. Perhaps a diamond drill."

"Um, before we talk about destroying really valuable stolen property, what exactly did that glow  _mean_?" JD asked, with a hint of nervousness.

"And why does it give me the heebie-jeebies?" Buck added, moving to crouch behind JD.

"Very scientific choice of words, Buck," JD snarked. "Is that from the same dictionary as 'hinky'?"

"Hinky is a perfectly good word with a long and glorious tradition," Buck defended stoutly. "But this is beside the point… What  _is_  that thing?"

Saguru glanced over at Kid with a wry smile. "It's your story… Kid-kun."

Kid exhaled as far as his ribs would allow. "It's… the legend I heard, the gem was once called Pandora. Under the light of a certain comet, it will cry tears of immortality. Or eternity," he added. "Or an eternity of tears. English is weird."

Buck knew he was staring. It wasn't  _possible_ … but he'd seen his share of weirdness over the years, and something in that red glow had made his hands itch for a blowtorch.

Saguru added, "Someone once said that English is the language that mugs others in dark alleyways and rifles through their pockets for loose vocabulary, or maybe grammar."

Kid started to chuckle, cutting off with a grimace. "Don't make me laugh, Hakuba-kun."

"My apologies," Saguru answered. "You mentioned that this was a doublet gem, before… Given its nature, I wonder if there is any way to remove the internal stone without damaging the outer."

Beside Buck, JD gave a small sigh of relief that Buck privately echoed. Getting through this without property damage was  _very_  preferable to the alternative. Kid didn't seem to notice, eyes on the gem as he knuckle-walked it back and forth across his glove.

"It took a few moments before it started to glow… maybe if they're in the moonlight long enough, the two will separate?"

"It's worth a try, at any rate," Saguru agreed, and then added, "Do be careful, the last thing we want is for them to go flying apart as you juggle it."

Kid glanced carefully over his shoulder, mock offended. "Juggling requires at least two objects passing through the air, and isn't worth considering without four."

"Tossing it around, then, which I'm sure you'd get to eventually," the blond conceded.

"You shouldn't even try that much, or Nathan will kill me when he gets back," JD pleaded.

"And then I'd have to kill you," Buck contributed cheerfully. "And then Nathan."

"Well, we can't have that," Saguru replied, smirking slightly. "I suppose we'll have to simply sit here and wait, instead."

"Are you offering to keep playing backrest?" Kid inquired in a perfectly bland voice.

He was stuck leaning his full weight against the detective, given his inability to sit upright without using injured muscle. The blandness almost gave Buck pause about the situation, but they'd obviously been getting along before he'd arrived, and he'd seen JD's morgue footage. Anyone with an eye and half a brain could tell how shaken Saguru had been by the thought of losing Kid—who was obviously his age and intelligence bracket, and going by their mutual accomplishments that couldn't be common.

"I suppose so." Saguru's tone was equally bland. "For the sake of my curiosity."

Watching Saguru pick up a discarded blanket from the floor and half-drop, half-drape it across Kid's bare shoulders, Buck would eat JD's baseball cap if the detective and thief weren't already friends in everything but name.

"Okay, then." Kid's attention immediately transferred to the bag in Buck's hand. "You didn't ruin dinner when you dropped it, did you?"

"…Fast food. You couldn't ruin it if you ran it over with Chris's Ram." Or near enough, even if it tended to be squishy.

Saguru's face immediately gained an evil grin. "Oh, you got my fish tacos?"

"I hate you so much, Hakuba-kun," Kid growled, though without any real ire.

"Huh?" JD's face mirrored Buck's own.

"Kid here is afraid of fish. It seemed… appropriate payback."

"Fish?" Buck mused. "Dang, I've heard of some weird phobias—Josiah's got a poster in the office at his house—but fish is a new one."

Kid muttered something in Japanese under his breath. JD snickered as Saguru took pity on Buck and translated. "He said, 'You try falling into the interactive pool in the aquarium when you're three.' Because the invertebrates are a deadly and dangerous lot, of course."

Kid tilted another half-serious glare at Saguru. "Sharks and manta rays and fish."

Buck bit down on a smile. "Well, that would do it. I ain't exactly fond of spiders, myself."

"He screams like a little girl," JD volunteered, ducking away from Buck's inevitable head slap.

Kid actually laughed for half a second, before breaking off with a hiss and swearing in what sounded like Japanese, Russian, French, and, of all things, Cherokee.

"Wow," JD commented, "I haven't heard anything like that since…"

"Since Ez and Vin got that catwalk dropped out from under 'em," Buck finished. You couldn't work busts with Ezra for long without picking up the more esoteric foreign curses, though Vin had been the one to teach them all the good ones in Cherokee.

"Vin is your sharpshooter?" Saguru inquired. "Mr. Sanchez briefly mentioned him…"

"Yeah, Vin is our team's weapon expert," Buck started to explain, before JD eagerly interrupted.

"I think between 'em he and Ez speak about… oh, ten different languages? I know they're both half-decent at conversational Japanese, we've driven Chris crazy with it occasionally."

Kid grinned. "I like Vin already."

Saguru snorted. "You would."

The conversation petered out after Buck distributed the food, with Kid humorously leaning as far away from Saguru's dinner as he could manage without falling. Buck rummaged up a small glass bowl from the kitchen at Kid's request, which the thumbnail-sized ruby was unceremoniously dumped into.

"The comet might not be close enough, but I don't want to be holding the thing when they separate if it really is this easy, for once."

"Can't hardly blame you," Buck agreed. He joined JD at the table to eat, aware of Ezra's dire threats should anything happen to his carpets as a result of Buck habitually messy eating habits.

After wolfing his food JD went straight back to his computer, muttering under his breath about overtime pay. Buck took his time, but afterward made a few phone calls following up with friends across the alphabet soup of government agencies. It was only feelers for now, but Chris and Judge Travis were certain that this case would be big by the time it was over. The sooner they could get people they trusted on board and working with them, the better.

The teenagers seemed content to ignore them, sitting in companionable silence broken by the occasional murmured snatch of Japanese. After a fair amount of time, Buck was wondering if Ezra would ever make it home when Saguru and Kid both hissed in unison, and Saguru pitched his voice their way.

"It would appear that it worked after all. Mr. Wilmington, could you help me get this lump into the chair before he falls asleep on me?"

"You mea…" Kid yawned, "mean you don't moonlight as a recliner?"

"Only for cats," Saguru retorted, "which, despite any resemblance, you most assuredly are  _not_."

Kid's instant response was to grin and, somehow, make a pitch-perfect imitation of a cat's purr.

"There's a reason I said, 'despite any resemblance'," Saguru replied dryly.

"Hell, coulda fooled me," Buck admitted.

"He does that."

Kid yawned again. "It's a hobby."

"Better than some of them."

"Like what?" JD asked from the table.

"He has a distressing predilection for hair dye and confetti."

"I'm sure you get your revenge somehow," Buck grinned. "Ready to move, Kid?"

Kid hesitated, expression clearly wanting to avoid all movement if possible, but after a few moments he nodded and handed the bowl with two red lumps inside to Saguru. "Just make it quick, if you can't manage painless."

"We'll do our best."

They did, and Kid sank into Ezra's favorite recliner with teeth only moderately gritted. Saguru's face hinted that this wasn't necessarily a  _good_  thing, and the blond gently gripped Kid's shoulder. "All right?"

"…I'll live."

"That bad? Damn." Saguru checked his watch. "You should be able to have some more aspirin, if you think you can keep it down."

Kid's eyes had drifted closed from exhaustion. "Mmph."

Buck watched in amusement as Saguru, in a manner very reminiscent of Vin, decided that this answer clearly meant 'yes' and retrieved the necessary pills and water. Kid grunted, downed them, and was almost instantly out like a light.

Saguru sighed, then took a handkerchief from a pocket and plucked the stolen ruby out of the glass dish, wrapping it in the cloth and holding it out to Buck. "I believe you'll have somewhere this needs to be shortly, yes?"

Buck nodded, tucking the gem into his wallet as Saguru bundled Pandora into another square of cloth. "I'll be meeting up with Chris again later. Thank you."

"On the contrary, Mr. Wilmington." Saguru turned back to look at Kid, hands sliding into his pockets and voice soft. "On the behalf of a number of people… I should be the one thanking all of you."

Buck simply nodded. There was nothing else that needed to be said.

 


	6. Chris

_I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,_  
_And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker_  
~TS Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

* * *

Some days, it didn't feel worth the effort of having gotten out of bed. Other days, he simply wanted a drink by noon.

Noon long since passed, the hall clock proclaimed the time to be 16:53. Chris grimaced as he left Travis's office, not having realized he'd spent so long in his second conference with the Director. Orin Travis was a very principled man, even if he was adept at politics—if it weren't to protect the life of a kid who wasn't even legal yet, judging by the voice on the phone, the Judge wouldn't have been willing to venture so far into the gray fringes. Rules could be bent, especially for good cause, but Travis's job was to be sure that Team Seven's preference for slightly unorthodox methods didn't come back to bite them later. That caution meant that even when sympathetic, Chris had to prove the logic of their plan to Travis before he could get approval.

Still, Chris now had both the paperwork that gave Team 7 lead jurisdiction to investigate Kid's snipers and the order that granted him access to the morgue to examine the John Does for a replacement Kid. The morgue was for tomorrow, however. First he needed to see the template. Five minutes before he could clock out, head to Ezra's, and get a drink, in that order.

It was the curse of being team leader, he mused on the way back to the bullpen, to stay in the building to coordinate and deal with red tape and paperwork while the rest of the team did their jobs. Thank God he only had six people instead of a dozen full teams like Travis, because he was attached to what little sanity he had left. Travis's division seemed to attract the highly-competent-but-slightly-crazy, because no one could be the best of the best and still be entirely sane. Chris would be the first to admit that his team contained some of the worst offenders on that front, if not all of them.

Speaking of his team…

As he exited the elevator, he spotted Josiah standing in the otherwise empty reception area for the floor, chatting with the third teenager of Asian descent to reach his attention in 24 hours. This time said teenager was female, with a visitor's badge, perfect posture, and auburn-purple hair straight out of a bottle.

Josiah looked up as he approached, smiling broadly—which on Josiah was very broad indeed. "Chris, there you are. We were wondering if Travis would ever let you go, or if we'd have to mount an expedition."

"No need for a machete just yet. Who's your friend?"

The girl turned to face him, a golden ankh pendant glinting at the movement. She coolly returned his assessing look as Josiah answered, "This is Akako Koizumi, visiting from Japan. It's a shame to end such a good discussion about comparative mythology so soon, but she says she needs to talk with you about Kid."

"…Right." He gestured curtly for them to follow, and continued the walk to his office. Once safely ensconced behind the closed door, with Josiah not-quite-looming (he seemed to have taken too much of a shine to her to do it properly) behind her chair, Chris switched on the white-noise generator JD had installed last year and leaned back.

"So. Talk."

If anything, she seemed amused. "I watched the Kid heist," she replied in English more heavily accented than either boy. "I saw him hurt; saw him land on the balcony of Mr. Standish. Knew he would need help—"

"Back up," Chris interrupted, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, you saw him on Ezra's balcony?"

"Ah…" She gestured slightly, a sort of circular movement with one hand. "How to say… View? Not on TV," she added, a slightly predatory smile spreading that emphasized the glint in her eyes. "No news cameras. I am… I use image magic, Mr. Larabee."

"Magic." He gave her a flat look, not quite a glare but close. The unapologetic skepticism didn't seem to faze her.

"Yes. To see the present is not hard, with a reflective surface, and even easier with short distance… perhaps a demonstration? I have a mirror…" She dropped a hand to the large messenger bag beside her chair.

After a moment's internal debate, Chris opened a drawer and retrieved the rectangular mirror he used for shaving when he stayed overnight in the building. If she actually wanted to try proving magic to him, it would be on an object she couldn't have had a chance to rig. "Knock yourself out."

Her eyebrows drew together, until Josiah added, "The figure of speech means 'Go ahead', Koizumi-kun."

"Ah, of course." She leaned forward, murmuring a string of words under her breath, and repeated the earlier circle-wave gesture above the glassy surface. At first, nothing happened, but then the mirror somehow  _rippled_ , and abruptly Chris could see not the ceiling and halogen lights of his office, but a perfect view of Ezra's apartment balcony lit by the setting sun.

As only one response seemed appropriate, he swore.

"My, that  _is_  fascinating," Josiah added mildly, looking over Akako's shoulder. "Does it show the inside, as well?"

If it could, Chris realized, and there were  _other_  people who could do this, especially connected to Japan or to Kid… that could be Trouble _._  He glared at the mirror, trying not to take its existence as a personal affront. He hated trouble. It tended to end with one of Team Seven in the hospital, usually Ezra or Vin.

Akako shook her head, however. "The curtains are open, by the windows are opaque to us. See? And if you try to look in…"

Another gesture, and the mirror went white. "Static, like a blocked radio. Mr. Standish is warded against a— _ah!_ —a scry, that is the word. Perhaps more than that, if he knows to have wards at all. Of you all, his home is safest."

Chris massaged the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off the oncoming headache. "So why are you here?"

Abruptly, she sobered, sitting back and letting the mirror return to mundane reflection. "Because it is not safe for Kid-kun's cover to be missing from Japan for long, when Kid's death is unconfirmed. As I said, Mr. Larabee, I use image magic. I can help you make a corpse convincing to even the people who want Kid dead."

"You know his civilian identity?" Josiah inquired, sounding curious.

Akako hesitated. "We're… friends, you could say. Inasmuch as he allows himself to have them, any more."

Chris's lips thinned. "No more connections than necessary, in case of collateral damage." He'd seen people operate that way. Hell,  _he'd_  been that way for years, before Travis had approached him about creating Team Seven.

A nod. "Even though it is far too late to avoid that sort of thing. He is…" Her gaze went briefly distant, lost in a memory. "He is a flame, among moths trapped in ice. In the light of his dance, one cannot help but change."

"Sounds like he did a lot for you," Josiah observed quietly.

She turned just enough to give Josiah an ironic, bittersweet smile. "He reminded me that people were people, rather than servants or pawns. For someone with my abilities, it's not something I should have ever forgotten… but I did, until him."

He wasn't going to ask, Chris decided. If she were legitimate, he'd be happier not knowing. "I'll think about it. Josiah can show you the cafeteria—I doubt you've had anything worth calling food recently."

The excuse was transparent, but he'd never cared for subtle. She followed Josiah out without protest, though not before a smirk informed him that she knew his offer wasn't born from hospitality.

Once the office door closed behind them, Chris hit '2' on his speed dial and returned Buck's greeting with, "Are you still at Ezra's?"

"Just about to leave—there's a hell of a lot to catch you up on."

"Don't just yet. If either of the kids are awake, I have a question for them." It might be just after five in Colorado, but that meant Saguru's internal clock thought it was midnight.

While Buck checked, Chris pulled up the building's visitor list and found Akako's picture. He had just enough time to capture the photo with his camera phone before the voice he recognized from JD's morgue footage declared, "This is Hakuba."

"Chris Larabee. I'm about to send you a picture. Tell me if you recognize her."

"Her?" came the perplexed reply as he pushed the requisite buttons, followed a minute later by a sharp intake of breath. "Koizumi-kun is in Denver?"

Not a plant, then. Not unless Kid's snipers were more informed than should be possible.

"She showed up at my office half an hour ago. Does she go to school with you, too?" If she knew Saguru, and she knew Kid, odds were Saguru knew Kid through the same avenue…

After some hesitation, Saguru allowed, "She's in my class, yes. Did she say why she came?"

"To help protect Kid, if you'll believe it." If there were any room and any phone to have this conversation between, it would be on Team Seven's phones between his office and Ezra's house—particularly now that he'd learned Ezra's professional paranoia extended even further than he'd imagined.

Saguru chuffed softly. "Did you know that Kid once escaped on a broomstick, Mr. Larabee? I believe in a great deal more now than when I first traveled to Japan."

Chris frowned. "Not just image magic, then." Not that he entirely blamed her for holding back the full extent of her abilities. He barely believed he was saying the sentence without sarcasm.

"Is that what she calls it?" Saguru's voice shifted from thoughtful musing to more intent. "If she's offered to help, I wouldn't turn her down."

"What about Kid?"

"…He's accepted help from her before, albeit reluctantly." Saguru paused, and sighed. "I think he'd be willing to see her. If not, I may have to smack some sense into the twit, but I'd like to consult with her regardless, on a somewhat related matter."

Chris's lips quirked upwards. "We'll be over in an hour. You can put Buck back on."

After a moment of fumbling, Buck's voice returned. "Change of plans, Chris?"

"A bit. Stay put, but I expect Ezra's apartment to still be intact when I get there."

"Hey, that oven fire didn't even spread!"

"See you in an hour, Buck."

Uncertainties assuaged for the moment, he caught up with Josiah and Akako in the cafeteria, Akako delicately picking her way through a Cobb salad.

"You in Denver alone?"

"Yes, but Mr. Sanchez has graciously offered me use of his guest bedroom for the duration in exchange for warding his house."

Josiah shrugged under his gaze. "Better safe than sorry."

Put like that, it was difficult to argue. "Fine, Buck can drop her off on his way home when we're done." At Akako's questioning gaze, he added, "Ezra's hosting Saguru Hakuba, who got himself attached to my team to keep him out of trouble. You two can catch up while he fills out all the paperwork the Director wants to cover his involvement."

Akako's eyes flared in surprise at Saguru's name, but by the time he hefted the thick manila folder intended for the detective's attention her expression had shifted into a smile of genuine pleasure.

"He  _did_  come." She stood and re-shouldered her bag in one smooth movement, face upturned expectantly. "We can go? I'll wait for when you have something to involve myself further."

"Josiah will bring you back here if we need to go over your witness testimony again." The cafeteria was only mostly deserted, after all. The earlier office gossip could give Akako a legitimate reason to be seen in the building the better.

"Of course." And she was thankfully quick on the uptake.

They left Josiah to make his own way home, and headed for Ezra's apartment in Chris's Ram. Akako seemed to feel no obligation for conversation, content to look out the window in silence, which suited him just fine. They kept to their own thoughts until Chris turned onto Ezra's street, and she perked up, apparently recognizing the building from her previous—even his thoughts sounded disgruntled when they considered the word—scrying.

"Here… This place."

"Ezra's apartment is on the inner side," he acknowledged as they parked on the street. Harder for someone to get to, and closer to the underground parking garage for residents. "Are you going to set off his… wards?"

"That depends on their nature, but as I have no sinister intentions, I should not be barred entry or cause him rush back suspecting a home invasion."

And here he'd just been thinking that Ezra's precautions would just be attuned to the presence of magic, or similar. "They can be tuned to be that specific? And to work over a distance?"

"Yes, most protections of a home or sacred place follow such a setup. I could tell you more about his in particular after a chance to examine them…"

"He can tell me himself." And Chris was  _definitely_  asking.

The security guard gave them a mildly interested look—Ezra had probably never had a guest under the age of twenty before, let alone two in one day—but he simply nodded to them as they went by. Ezra had apparently returned home since Chris called, as he opened the door to their knock. It was a tribute to the man's unflappable nature that he didn't so much as blink at Akako's presence behind Chris.

"Well, now. I feel as if I've started a trend."

The corners of Chris's lips twitched of their own accord. "She's got business with Saguru, same as me."

"Hajimemashite, Ezra-san," she added, bowing slightly.

Ezra returned the greeting effortlessly and added something in Japanese, though Chris could make out "Kid" and, he thought, some conjugation of "to know a person". You didn't have three underlings fluent in a language without eventually picking up a few more things than just epithets.

Akako replied with an affirmative lilt, and Ezra stepped back to allow them entry. Chris acknowledged Buck's silent wave with a nod—the uncharacteristic silence was easily explained by the bandaged teen propped up in Ezra's favorite recliner, though the signs of medicated unconsciousness in the brunet's limp form made it unnecessary.

Before Chris could say anything, however, the sound of the door closing with a sharp 'click' prompted him to look back in time to see… not quite fear, but a definite wariness warring with Ezra's usual calm mask.

"Mahou?" Ezra demanded in an undertone.

"So much for not tripping the wards," Chris commented with some amusement, earning a sharp look from the younger man. In the background, Saguru made a faint noise of satisfied comprehension.

"Of course… it feels  _safe_." Which could explain some degree of the paranoid thief's cooperation with them so far.

Ezra flicked the wary gaze to Saguru, then Chris, as if trying to judge whether Chris's attitude and general level of belief were genuine. Chris decided to humor him. "I saw your balcony in my office shaving mirror."

"…I see." The reassurance seemed to help, fine tension in Ezra's face easing slightly.

"Huh?" JD voiced, apparently speaking for Buck as well.

Akako ignored them, speaking to Ezra and Chris. "I admit, I was not expecting the home of one without spark to have wards so sophisticated. They must awake at either power or ill intent, or both."

"One hardly needs poor intentions to do harm." If Ezra's voice were any drier, it would spontaneously combust. Thinking of Maude and Ella, Chris  _really_  had to agree.

The memory of Ella made him perhaps more gruff than intended as he responded, "And you can't protect against what you don't know about. Why didn't you say anything before now?"

Ezra's spine stiffened minutely, and he gave Chris a  _look_. "I had no wish to be handed over to men in white coats."

"Ezra, I would never call you crazy if you could give me proof, even for something as… admittedly insane as magic."

The peanut gallery contributed a few exclamations of surprise or disbelief as Ezra spread his hands. "But I didn't. All I've possessed for the past twenty years is a souvenir from a lovely old Chinese woman I once assisted in San Francisco."

Akako sucked in a breath. "She… this whole home, protected so well, is by virtue of a single object?"

Ezra turned his head, wariness transferring back to the girl. Chris was reminded of last year's 4th of July barbecue and the accidental game of hot potato that had erupted in the kitchen. "Yes… A statuette. A lucky charm, to counter some trouble I happened to acquire during the encounter."

Chris narrowed his eyes at the phrasing, wheels turning in the back of his mind as a great deal of the past several years' events suddenly made a horrible sort of sense—if he was right.

"Tell me you didn't get hit by a real version of the 'Interesting Times' curse."

Utter silence.

"No  _way_ ," JD breathed before it could become oppressive. "You really did?"

"If you must know, y _es_ ," Ezra bit out. "She gave me the damn cat so as to create a place it couldn't reach." He glanced at Chris again. "In case you wondered why I so often take myself home against medical advice, Mr. Larabee."

"Well, hell, Ez, you coulda just asked one of us to bring it to you," Buck interjected.

"Without an insane explanation you wouldn't have believed anyway? And risk it being broken or lost?" Ezra sounded appalled at even the thought of the latter two.

"Hey, I spent a few years in New Orleans," Buck protested. "I saw plenty of stuff most folks wouldn't believe down by the Bayou."

"But he is right, such a thing is too precious to risk damage," Akako spoke up. "The power, and flexibility, and  _precision_ … I doubt even I could equal it without decades studying her discipline. Such dedication to the craft is rare, dying out as the spark itself grows rarer."

JD jumped in, "Wait, a spark? It's not just study? I guess that makes sense, or you'd hear about a lot more crazy stuff than we do already, and a lot less fakes…"

"The true reality is very, very rare. Study alone is not enough, but neither is the spark, and to find the two together in one person…" She shrugged. "Even with some genetic predispositions, you could find perhaps one truth for every thousand practicing charlatans. Even fewer can do more than a few cantrips." She gave Ezra an almost bittersweet smile. "If you knew how to find your benefactor and she were still alive, I would have very much liked to meet her."

Ezra smiled back. "I believe she would have liked you."

Chris decided it was high time to return to the topic at hand. "So we haven't run into anything since you joined the team?

"…Not on cases, or at least not that I've recognized as such—I can only sense an intrusion here, or…" Ezra hesitated, then sighed. "A fellow victim."

Chris covered his eyes with a hand. "Vin."

Ezra's reply was almost inaudible beneath Buck's spate of half-flabbergasted, half-amused cursing. "Yes."

"And you both decided not to tell me."

"Would you have believed it to be more than insane coincidence? He has no more proof than I."

Chris gave the question honest consideration, and was forced to admit, "Probably not."

"Mr. Tanner has no more love for psychiatric evaluations than I do. His was also new, at the time—from his last case with the US Marshals, we believe, before you recruited him."

Chris very deliberately tried not to think about the possible implications of that, massaging his forehead against the burgeoning headache instead.

Before he could say anything more, however, a soft British curse came from by Kid's chair, followed by a rapid burst of quiet Japanese. Akako dropped her bag by the door and hurried over, deftly slipping around all four adults to stand by Saguru's side.

"Ezra, what are they saying?"

"Saguru-kun is rather vehemently asking Kid-kun to wake up, as he appears—" Kid suddenly surged upward in the chair, bare hand lashing out such that Saguru narrowly avoided bloody eyes by catching Kid's wrist first, before injury-awareness kicked in and Kid collapsed back into the chair, hissing through gritted teeth.

"—to be dreaming," Ezra finished.

Chris crossed the room as Saguru carefully lowered Kid's arm, murmuring what sounded like assurances in a mix of English and Japanese. The closer proximity let Chris hear Kid's reply, which was… odd. There was the word for 'stop', he'd heard that one over the years, but 'singing'?

The two teenagers seemed to agree with Chris, because they both stared at Kid for a moment before some penny seemed to drop for both of them, and Akako began ranting beautifully in a language Chris had never heard before.

At the sound of her voice, Kid's eyes flew open and he stared, despite the pain leaking into his expression. "…Koizumi?"

She smiled at him, fox-like, and answered in English. "Hello, Kid-kun. I might have guessed you were seeking one of the Tragic Ladies."

Kid opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock, but it was Saguru who finally voiced, horror-tinged, "There are  _more than one_  of the bloody things?"

The smile sharpened. "Not since, hmm, Ptolemaic Egypt. The record of Anesidora's destruction and her sister's disappearance dates from around then."

Chris thought back to the little gold ankh around her neck. "So, your specialization is Ancient Egypt."

She canted the smile over her shoulder at him. "My specialization is anything I can access, Mr. Larabee. My greatest interest lies in Egypt."

"Which explains…" Kid breathed carefully, voice still pale, "why you blend… dolls and curses… in your cobra… headdress."

"Precisely," Akako agreed, without a trace of irony. "But your wound must have your natural defenses at very low ebb, if Pandora can get her claws into your dreams." Across from Chris, Ezra opened his mouth, but Akako caught his eye and apparently anticipated the question. "Your wards would have stayed quiet because when she crossed them, she hid dormant within another stone. Moonlight must have awakened her since."

"Awakened? How sentient does a rock get?" At least, Chris assumed they were talking about Kid's heist target. There weren't many other options, but magic was one thing, and sentient geology another.

"Enough." Kid's voice was oddly flat. "'Nough to… tempt."

"Tempt with  _what?_ "

"Short version?" Buck volunteered. "Immortality. Told you that you missed a lot," he added as Chris found himself wishing for Glock and an empty shooting range.

"As for awareness, I presume it would be similar to an artificial intelligence, if a bit more sophisticated in its ability to classify the world," Saguru ventured, continuing after Akako nodded. "It has a function to perform, the ability to recognize potential contacts, a… hibernation mode, for lack of a better word, and a self-preservation algorithm against threats."

"Which I most certainly am," Akako purred, almost cheerfully. "Power doesn't like competition."

"…Well, that certainly answers what I'd hoped to ask you," Saguru admitted. "You know how to destroy it, then? Or at least how to access the information."

Kid cracked open his eyes, which had closed during the earlier explanation. "D'I not get a say here?"

"No," came the answer, in two-part unison. Saguru continued, "Your way got yourself shot."

Akako nodded. "And you poured so much of yourself into finding her… Regardless of the driving intent, you see that having done so still leaves an opening for her. Your perspective might become compromised."

Kid's face tightened, though he didn't object further. Chris would have hated hearing news like that too, but good sense was good sense.

Akako turned to face Saguru and Chris. "I'll need to make a phone call, and there will be preparations… I'll need some time. And until then, she should be as far from Kid-kun as possible."

Right, then. He was still team leader, dammit; making decisions was his job. "Would Josiah be safe if you took it there?"

After some consideration, Akako nodded slowly. "Pandora has no connections to him, and he has more self-awareness than most."

"Then you take it with you when you leave. Buck, you're dropping her at Josiah's. Ezra…" Chris paused, reconsidering. Ezra's apartment had only one bedroom. "Can this place handle three people?"

Ezra and Saguru exchanged glances, and the detective declared, "I can sleep on an airplane. A couch or air mattress holds no horrors."

Ezra nodded. "Given the unknown tenure until Kid-kun is mobile, I would recommend the latter, for the sake of your spine. I believe Chris has one we can requisition for the duration."

"I'll bring it tomorrow." And that left Kid in the recliner, which seemed to be working well so far. "JD, make a laptop and thumb drive proprietary for Saguru tomorrow. No need for him to go in every day just for data analysis. Speaking of which…"

Chris held out to Saguru the thick manila folder he'd been carrying. "You want to be more involved than just keeping an eye on Kid, have this filled out by tomorrow."

Saguru took the proffered paperwork with a long-suffering sigh. "Three continents, and nothing changes."

"It wouldn't be bureaucracy otherwise," Ezra answered.

Buck and JD both snickered, and Buck added, "I think those orders cover just about everyone but you, stud. What are you going to do?"

"I'm—"

His phone rang. Leaving the thought hanging, he checked the screen.

…An international number?

He thumbed it on. "Chris Larabee."

There was a click from the far end, like an unsecured line switching over to secure.

"Ah… Mr. Larabee?" The voice was young—it seemed to be a theme lately—but with a smooth confidence Chris had rarely heard outside of Ezra, or maybe Buck getting a date. "I'm Shin'ichi Kudou, a detective colleague of Saguru Hakuba. He gave me your number because we all want the same thing."

"And what do you think that is, Kudou?"

At Shin'ichi's name, the attention of all three teenagers snapped to Chris—Saguru smirking slightly, Akako surprised but pleased, and Kid… looking not unlike he'd been hit by the metaphorical 2x4, no matter how much he tried to hide it. But Kid was almost smiling, albeit crookedly, and Saguru had a satisfied air, so this new kid was probably legitimate.

Shin'ichi answered, "To catch a certain band of murderers before they can kill a better man than they. I have reason to believe your sniper investigation will eventually intersect with one I've been conducting for the past year in Japan, with occasional collusion with a few of your countrymen. And women."

He narrowed his eyes. For them to be  _in Japan…_  at least the CIA wasn't the FBI. Chris still held a grudge for the false rumors which Ezra had escaped by the skin of his teeth by transferring to Team Seven on permanent loan."Officially, or unofficially?"

"The collaborations haven't been close enough for me to ask, but I suspect a combination of official plausible deniability for both agencies, with personal motivations providing the driving force."

Oh, hell. "Both?"

"CIA undercover and handlers, with the FBI forming most of the backup."

Chris was too professional to swear over the phone. Besides, if  _those_  two agencies were working so well together that Japanese police hadn't clued in and kicked them back across the Pacific, maybe interdepartmental rivalry could be buried after all.

Of course, that presumed they were going to cross paths. "What makes you think we're after the same people?"

And there was Kid's eyes going wide again. Interesting, but not too surprising, that a lone wolf wouldn't have considered other people might have similar goals.

"…Two groups in Tokyo with a disturbing fixation on cheating death—one via science, one via more unorthodox methods—and no turf war in the entire Metropolitan Area." A faint, almost frustrated sigh. "In fact, unless you know how to look, no sign of either one at all."

Oh,  _that_ was promising. Chris felt his headache making a comeback.

Shin'ichi continued, "However, I have some leads here, and if you would be interested in collaboration…" His voice turned serious. "I've dedicated my life to seeing these people face justice for their crimes, Mr. Larabee. With your help, perhaps we can corner them before more people die."

Including you, Chris thought darkly. "All right. Call again in fourteen hours and we can do a teleconference with the rest of my team." Ezra would just have to show up to work on time. Eight a.m. in Denver was already 11 p.m. in Tokyo.

"Right. Oh, and give Kid a message from me, would you? Tell him the chase is over, but that doesn't mean the game has to end."

Chris grunted in a vaguely affirmative manner and hung up. He looked around Ezra's crowded living room, faces all focused expectantly on him.

"Well?" Buck demanded.

"…I'm buying a damn Japanese dictionary."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ezra's full curse is "May you live in Interesting Times." The specifics of Vin's are anyone's guess. If someone wants to write that scene, I would love to read it.
> 
> If anyone was curious, Akako was swearing in Ancient Egyptian. And yes, Shin'ichi on the phone is actually Conan via bowtie.


	7. Vin

_What life have you, if you have not life together?  
_ ~ TS Eliot, Choruses from The Rock

* * *

When the Judge had given Chris permission to handle the sniper investigation, Vin reflected, he probably hadn't expected it to go like this. This, of course, being the temporary retainer of one teenage detective, one teenage witch and one teenage thief, while working  _with_  the interagency alphabet soup (and another teenage detective) to break open the biggest mob-cum-secret-society to be found in recent history.

Some days it was almost like they were ankle deep in teenagers, and he wasn't even the one living at Ezra's apartment. Maybe it was because he currently had Saguru and Akako flanking him through Denver International Airport's baggage claim.

"You're sure walkin' around is the best way to do this? Seems like askin' for trouble." And even with Akako trying to dampen the effects, he found enough trouble  _without_  looking for it.

Saguru shrugged. "Kid-kun said we'd find her fastest this way, and he would know."

Akako added with a touch of dry humor, "He also said we would recognize her, but not right away."

"Oh, I expect that any woman capable of being his father's partner for a decade would have far more depth than the average single mother. I'd frankly be more surprised if she didn't do something… interesting."

Akako gave Saguru a sidelong glance. "Involving experience in said father's tools of trade?"

"You think she  _wouldn't_?"

She chuckled. "Point."

The pair had been having similar half-conversations in Japanese around the office for the past week. The secretaries' pool put Chris at four more days before he forbade the language in the bullpen for the case's duration. Vin had put fifty bucks on another two days, and had every intention of joining in the conversations now that he was back in the office waiting for leads to come in. Or at least, he would be after this morning's trip.

"Akako-chaaan!"

Akako's eyes widened in uncharacteristic surprise as she turned and searched for the voice. "Wh… Neesan?"

A dozen yards away, a young woman about Vin's age waved and glided toward them, suitcase rolling behind. Long black hair falling over one eye might have made her seem dark and mysterious in the right setting, but the effect was ruined by the bustle of the airport and her cheerful smile.

"It's so good of you to come pick me up, I might have been lost otherwise."

"But you're… oh." Akako's expression shifted to amused recognition. "Welcome to Denver, obasan."

"Aww," the young woman pouted, voice shifting slightly to a lower timbre. "You're too quick, Akako-chan."

"Yumiko-neesan is filming a miniseries in Yokohama through the end of the month, obasan. She wouldn't abandon her work to come here."

"Well, maybe she should. Colorado is beautiful, especially from the air." Kid's mother turned to smile at Vin, switching to English. "You must be Mr. Tanner."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, you can call me Midori." Not her real name, going from Akako's half-squashed reaction, though looking at Saguru you'd never have known. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Glad you made it without a hitch. If you have everything, we can go see your son now."

The woman smiled again—not showing her teeth, but a quiet beaming. "I'm ready."

A few offers to carry the suitcase later, etiquette was satisfied enough for her to allow him to take it, and Vin led the way out to the ATF Vehicle-Pool Suburban. Chris had forbidden using the Jeep to shuttle guests around for some reason. Admittedly, the back seats looked like a pit bull had gone hunting for treats inside the cushions and sometimes the battery died, but she was a perfectly good ride.

The trip to Ezra's passed without incident, and Vin slipped into the curbside space just behind Nathan's Explorer. Upstairs, Nathan answered Vin's soft knock with a relieved smile. "Oh good, more victims."

"Oh dear. He convinced you to play cards?" Saguru asked as they trooped inside and introductions were made.

In the recliner, Kid waved faintly at his mother.

"Hi, Kaasan."

She swiftly crossed the room, taking the teen's face in her hands. "Mon cher…" Leaning in, she pressed her lips to Kid's forehead for a moment, then commanded in flawless French, "No more getting shot at."

"Yes, ma'am," the teen answered with only a bit more accent, and Vin knew he wasn't the only one raising eyebrows in amused surprise as Kid continued with a cheeky grin, "What about getting beaten?"

She switched to English. "Beatings are reserved for myself and your friends, when you need some sense put into your head."

"When does he not?" Saguru quipped.

Kid crooked the fingers of the hand not now ensconced by both of his mother's. "Come here so I can hit you, Hakuba-kun."

Saguru crossed the room, but only to sit on the couch nearby with Akako, well out of Kid's range of movement. "Really, Kid-kun, you make a poor case for not needing sense when you can't keep straight which role belongs to whom."

"It's not mutually exclusive."

"Only in your twisted little mind."

Kid grinned. "I'm contagious."

Amid chuckles from the peanut gallery, Nathan snorted. "What you are is injured and needing rest. You can't smack him unless he's pushing himself too hard—which seems to be a habit," he added, faint glare at odds with Kid's innocent smile.

"It's a family trait," Midori murmured, with a twinkle in her eyes. "I think between all of us, we can manage to keep him out of trouble."

Saguru groaned. "Please don't say that, he'll do something simply to prove the prediction wrong."

"Not when it comes from me. Isn't that right, son?" She angled a smile at Kid that made the question a very definite order. Kid gave a lazy half-salute.

"With sufficient entertainment."

"I'll take it. So," she gave Nathan a much more pleasant smile, "you were playing cards?"

"Yeah, rummy. He was smilin' too much like Ezra when he suggested poker."

"A wise decision," Saguru answered.

"Yeah, well. Hasn't helped my losing streak much." Nathan sat down and picked up his hand, then abruptly turned to Akako. "Oh, before I forget, Chris called not long ago and said you should call him when you got back. Something about 'evaluating your options'."

Akako didn't smile, but she did look satisfied. "Good. He must have finished visiting the morgues. If you'll excuse me, I need to see a man about a corpse… I'll call from the bedroom to avoid disrupting the game."

Midori looked up sharply from studying Kid's hand of cards despite his protests. "You're creating a false Kid?"

Akako nodded. "I don't know how much Kid-kun has told you about me, obasan, but I was the one on the broom."

"Of course. I think perhaps I should join that conversation." She took a breath, heralding a serene smile. "I know what they'll actually be expecting, you see."

For a moment, the room could have been a vacuum. The smile stayed firmly in place, and Vin realized with utter certainty that Kid got his strength of will from both parents, if he was reading the implications right. "I think that'd be just fine, ma'am. Y'all can use my phone, if you don't mind me sittin' in too."

He wanted to be in the planning loop before he was handed a body to dump in a deserted corner of his home neighborhood. As the only member of the seven to live in the poorest area of Denver, colloquially known as Purgatorio, he knew the streets and the people best to make such a plant not only unnoticed, but also believable as a man whose luck had simply run out.

And apparently now, a man much older than they'd anticipated.

"That should be fine, if you agree," Akako allowed, looking at Midori, who nodded. "Well. Enjoy your game, gentlemen."

Kid, Vin noticed as they retreated to the other room, hadn't moved an inch. Instead, he stared at his rummy hand the sort of intensity Vin usually reserved for sighting down a sniper rifle during a bust, ignoring Saguru's look of concern.

The detective didn't seem to deem it worth pursuing, however, because the bedroom door closed on him asking to be dealt in to the game-in-progress.

* * *

Chris, at least, answered his phone with typical punctuality. "Larabee."

"It's me, Cowboy. Got some pretty gals here waitin' to talk to you, so you're on speaker."

"Plural?"

"Midori-obasan is here," Akako answered smoothly, "and she made an important point regarding our plan's viability."

Chris's voice dropped to an almost-growl. Surprises were never pleasant in their line of work. "Which is?"

"Something you could not have anticipated, Mr. Larabee." The woman's voice was as smooth and strong as oiled silk. "They're not looking to find my son. They're still trying to murder my husband."

Another long silence passed, broken only by Chris's steady breathing. When he spoke, the gruffness had shaded into the rare commodity of genuine respect. "…You're volunteering to give us a complete description, then."

"I am."

"Go ahead."

She did, voice unwavering, with such detail to her words that Vin could practically see the man standing there in the room, vividly clear from pencil mustache and intangible eye-gleam down to the individual facial wrinkles and elegantly manicured fingernails. The wrinkles would have been mostly absent at 30-odd years, but with the confidence of a consummate makeup and disguise artist (which might explain her son's skill in disguise despite the first Kid having been gone for a decade already), Midori aged the verbal depiction to account for the passage of time. Scars, too; pale lines from a few troublesome tricks gone wrong, a bullet furrow from an early brush with death… and then, without so much as a pause, she began detailing where the body should most likely have faded burn-patterns from his impossible escape.

When they were done, Vin decided, he was buying Midori a drink. Or three.

Chris seemed to agree, because when she finally finished, he thanked her—a phenomenon so rare for those outside the team and Orrin Travis that Vin could count the number for the past year on one hand.

Akako echoed the sentiment as she finished a final scribble in a notebook she'd produced earlier, then added, "I think we can manage the other details between us, if you wish to rejoin Kid-kun."

Midori nodded with a sort of quiet relief. "Thank you for your hard work." She smiled at Akako, switching briefly to Japanese. "Do your best, Akako-chan."

"They'll never know the difference, obasan."

Vin escorted Midori back out, confident that Chris would ensure the return of his phone later. As team leader, Chris's paranoia ran deep that his subordinates  _always_  be able to prove at the drop of a hat that they weren't about to turn up... well, dead in an alley.

They reached the living room just in time to see Kid grin widely and lay down a hand of cards. "Gin."

Nathan groaned. "Why am I playing you again?"

"To keep him out of trouble," Saguru answered, gathering the cards to shuffle and re-deal. "Difficult at the best of times, as he tends to spread it around."

"I admit… to nothing," Kid countered, leaning back again into the chair.

"You don't have to." Saguru paused in the act of dealing. "Ah, Mr. Tanner, Midori-san, do you wish to join us?"

"Yes, please." Midori sat down with a smile, as if the previous conversation had never happened.

"Sure, got some time to kill."

A long-suffering sigh came from Nathan. "I'm doomed."

Vin grinned. "We'll go easy on you."

"Speak for yourself." Kid smirked, and the smiles from the other visitors seemed to silently echo the sentiment.

"Yep, doomed."

They didn't end up playing more than a few hands before Akako returned to the room, bearing the cell phone. "Ah, Vin-san? I'm supposed to ensure you receive this on pain of a mountain of paperwork for both of us."

Vin winced, knowing full well that Chris meant the threat, and took it gladly. "You need a ride in to the office now?"

"If you could. This should be put in place tonight, to appear authentic enough."

"Right." To Saguru, he added, "You coming, or staying put today?"

Saguru's gaze darted to Kid to Midori and back to the cards in less than a second.

"I'll tag along, if you don't mind. I had a few questions for JD." He set the cards down as Midori smiled at him, a silent thank-you for the relative privacy of only Nathan's company. "Just give me a moment to gather things."

Vin grinned. "Great. We'll have time to drive Chris up the wall later."

Nathan groaned. "Vin!"

* * *

As it turned out, annoying Chris took an abrupt backseat while Saguru and Akako were still occupied with JD and Chris. His phone rang.

"Tanner."

"Is this line secure?" The question was in Japanese, spoken by a familiar voice. Except said voice belonged to an old Ranger buddy whom he'd last talked to at an interagency training conference three years before and who had supposedly died on a deep-cover assignment six damn months ago. Vin pulled the phone away to check the caller ID—number withheld—and gave it a suspicious look before returning the receiver to his ear.

"As secure as humanly possible. …Akai?"

"Afternoon, Vin." The bastard had the audacity to sound  _amused_.

"You sound pretty good for a corpse, Red."

"Rumors of my death were highly exaggerated. If official. You looked me up recently?"

"Re-establishin' contacts does that. No one in your bureau thought to tell me until I tried to find you."

"You didn't have reason to be looking before now, and we've been watching to see who tries to confirm my status."

Vin had to chuckle. "Dead, and you're still bait."

"Sorry to worry you. I'm supposed to have been executed by a mob of crows in Japan."

Vin narrowed his eyes. "Everything comes back to there, seems like."

"Mmm. Only my team lead and you know the truth, so keep it under your hat. But if you're working this case too, now, we need to talk about who to trust and who to target."

Vin's grin would have sent any secretary, snitch, or minor crime lord running for the hills. "Then let's get started. I've still gotta make time to harass my boss later."

"You would."

* * *

The bastards never knew what hit them.

Vin surveyed the hotel banquet hall with a satisfied smile, watching the Japanese police mingle with the various American and British law enforcement members visiting Tokyo on the collective Kudou-Hakuba dime for this celebration. After all the paperwork had been turned in to become a headache for the folks at or above Travis's paygrade, the Shin'ichi kid had asked Chris to let Team Seven be flown in to celebrate. The chance to see how Kid was holding up since he'd left with his mother after the worst of his convalescence was over had apparently been enough for Chris to say yes. Being met at the airport by a sparkling grin and introductions to Kaito and Mizuki Kuroba had already made the trip well worth it—even before tonight's free booze.

Now that the requisite speeches, thank yous, and congratulations were out of the way, the party had truly started. Buck was competing with a British Secret Service agent to be the first to flirt with every woman at the party, Josiah and Nathan were deep in discussion with Mizuki and Shinichi's parents, and Chris was commiserating with a great-aunt of Saguru's that Ezra had identified with some awe as the head of MI6.

When informed that he really shouldn't have clearance to know that, the undercover agent had merely grinned. "I plead the fifth."

He and Vin sat at one of the tables as Kaito shuffled a deck of cards with more flourishes than a Las Vegas dealer, surrounded by Saguru, Akako, Shin'ichi, Shin'ichi's friend Heiji, Akai, and Akai's colleague Jodie, who seemed to be at the table both on her merits as a decent cardsharp and by virtue of not having allowed Akai out of arm's reach all night. She still hadn't quite forgiven him for dying.

Kaito's girlfriend Aoko seemed to be in a similar boat—minus the card playing, since she admitted to not being able to bluff. Sitting out of the impending poker tournament rather than mingling with the crowd didn't seem to bother her, going by how close her chair sat to Kaito's as she chatted quietly with Akako. She looked up, catching him watching her, and offered a smile. Given how she'd bowed to Ezra and Nathan a hair deeper than the rest of the team upon meeting them, Vin was betting she'd probably seen Kaito's scars and heard some version of the story. It was nice to be appreciated.

"All right, gentlemen," Kaito announced, dealing the hands out. "First round is non-coin, no raises." He looked over at Vin, flashing a particularly sharp grin. "How do you feel about wagering those photos of Standish-san in a dress, Tanner-san?"

Vin found himself grinning back. "I might be persuaded."

Ezra's cry of outrage was drowned out by laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who stuck with me during the writing process, especially WolfDaughter for occasionally poking the bunnies back into gear, and Ellen and Snickerer for betaing. I hope you all enjoyed this little foray into character interaction.
> 
> Yumiko Koizumi is a single-reference actress character from the Pop-Artist Karaoke Murder Case in DC.


End file.
